This is a question that I have been reflecting upon as I think about my own journey of first time motherhood. I have found myself lately looking at mothers and their babies. Mothers in shopping centres, mothers in parks, mothers pounding the pavements with a newborn, crying baby...and what has been most noticeable to me is how many of these mothers are doing it largely on their own. Engaging in the day to day tasks of caring for a baby, but so often doing it in isolation. In amongst these mothers I've also glimpsed mothers who are going about the same tasks but with another person alongside them. It might be a loving grandparent, a close friend, a partner or a fellow mother from a mother's group. No matter who it may be, it looks easier to me. In the sharing of the daily stressors of motherhood, the load seems a little lighter.

Research tells us that this support from others makes a difference to women as they navigate the early days of motherhood and find themselves adjusting to a new identity. Christiane Northrup lists a lack of physical, emotional and psychological support as a key risk factor to women developing postnatal depression. The Black Dog Institute also places social isolation as a significant risk factor for the onset of post natal adjustment difficulties.

Ideally, a close relationship with a mother figure in the early days provides the new mother not only with physical rest, but also with guidance, wisdom and encouragement as she adjusts to caring for a baby. Yet for many women, the reality may be that their own relationship with their mother is distant or difficult. The absence of a loving, supportive mother can be felt at any time in our life but is perhaps most poignant when we ourselves go on to become mothers for the first time.

'There is an often quoted saying that ‘it takes a village to raise a child’. I wonder too if it takes a village to raise a mother, to nurture her fragile confidence as she comes to know her baby and help her transform into the loving , confident mother she longs to be. The challenge for many new mothers in modern, western society is how do we create this village? How do we mother the mother so that she can find her feet and create a powerful, healthy bond with her baby that will last a lifetime? And in the absence of any close mothering relationship, how do we create a sense of being mothered?

A close friend who herself has a troubled relationship with her mother and whom has had to navigate the early days of parenting with very little support offered me her wisdom and it has stayed with me for some time. 'You need to create an intentional family'. We may not have close family who can meet our needs for emotional and practical support, but with intention we can create friendships and connections with others who can meet these needs within us. This may be with friends, an online community, mother's groups, or a wisened professional such as a child health nurse or counsellor. As we all struggle to become the best mothers we can be , it seems more important than ever that we share the journey with others, that we build our intentional families and create our own villages. We need community. The load might just be a little bit lighter because of it.

Last night I was driving with my husband. Bronte and Nate were quietly chatting in the back seat and looking at the bright lights of the city as they flew past the darkened windows. I shared with my husband my excitement that next month my book, Becoming a Mother, would finally be made tangibly real. That it would finally be in a bookstore somewhere, perhaps being flicked through by a new mother whilst her baby snoozed in the pram beside her. A book six years in the making, a book that had been witness to my journey from being an overwhelmed , anxious new mother to a sometimes confident, occasionally doubt filled but head over heels in love parent. ‘What’s the book about again Mum?’ Bronte sleepily asks from the backseat. ‘Well, it’s about being a Mum and what it was like for Mummy to look after you guys.’ Bronte is suddenly awake and excited. ‘What Mummy? Are we in your book? Does that mean I'm going to be famous!’ Nate chimes in with ‘Whoa, that is soooo coool.’

Bronte then asks me the tough question. 'Mum, are you going to talk about how having a baby was really hard? How I cried a lot?' I look at my husband and we exchange a knowing look. Perhaps my eyes are a little sad. ‘Well honey, Mummy talks about all the things I had to learn when you were babies. Being a Mummy was really hard. You cried a lot and Mummy made a lot of mistakes.’ I sense a quiet thoughtfulness in the back seat. I take a breath and say ‘I want other Mums to not feel so lonely. To know it gets better. I want others Mums to be in love with their children the way I love both of you.’ Passionately. Imperfectly. Joyfully.

Bronte is quiet. I sense her thinking. I also want to add that sometimes it still feels really hard. That each day I feel like I'm learning more and more what it means to be a mother. That some days I feel like I stuff up more than I get right, yet I'm thankful, so thankful for the journey.

But that's a conversation for another time. It feels like a long time before Bronte says anything. ‘That sounds like a good book Mum. If I had a baby I think I'd read it....but I think I will just adopt. ’

Being a calm parent takes a lot of work. I was reminded of this recently when upon taking a two hour flight I was seated next to a young mother and her young toddler. I smiled hello and made some chit chat and settled in for the flight ahead.

As we began our takeoff, I quickly gathered a sense of her baby. He was busy. Some babies are wired for being active and he was given a good dose of this gene. He wanted to drop the meal tray, press the call button, draw on the back of the chair, get off his mother's lap and stomp down the aisles...and this was just in the first five minutes. It was going to be a long flight for the poor little guy...and I suspect even longer for the mother. For although my children have passed many developmental milestones since the toddler days, I still carry within me vivid memories of stressful flights and cranky looks from fellow passengers about my little one's antics. I always emerged from such flights feeling both relieved and exhausted.

Yet this mother met each of her son's actions with a casual and calm response. She deftly distracted him with colouring books, knew intuitively when to move the drink out of his reach, gave him gentle encouragement to leave the call button and play with her phone instead. I confess I was a little in awe of this mother's beautiful ability to stay calm in the moment.

At the end of the flight I turned to her and gave her a warm smile. "Your baby has been so good," I said as he grabbed again at the tray table. And that's when I saw it. The brief glimpse of frazzled emotion. The tiredness. The flight had been stressful. And thats when I realised that being a calm parent takes a lot of work, sometimes more than is obvious to those around us. It requires a sophisticated level of attunement between mothers and their babies, a beautiful dance which is so often invisible to those who witness our parenting. It's a complex dance that we keep practicing for the rest of our lives, as we live in relationship with our children.

I came away from the flight reflecting on five things that can help all of us be a calmer parent...even when inside we feel anything BUT calm.

1. Have realistic expectations of yourself and your child in that moment. If this mother had gone into the flight expecting that her toddler would sit quietly for two hours, it would have created much tension as soon as her child began to defer from that plan. Children by their nature are noisy, messy, at times cheeky, disorganised, designed to test limits. Knowing this reduces our overly high expectations; the very ones that often drive inner tension.

2. Breathe and use small moments of mindfulness to manage our own inner stress. Noticing when we are feeling stressed and recognising when our internal thought chatter has become negative, agitated or frustrated and then deliberately unhooking from those thoughts can go a long way to helping maintain inner calm.

3.Have a repertoire of strategies to improve the moment, not just for yourself but for your child too. A calm parent is often prepared for chaos - having lots of props that can distract a baby, recognising the signs that our baby is tired/hungry/bored and meeting their needs ahead of time can help a lot.

4. Share the moment. Let someone know when you're feeling tired, irritable, anxious. Sometimes just in the telling, inner stress loses its power. Often when we are feeling most stressed, the opportunity to find a safe other person and let off some steam can really help get us back to being calmer. We've all been in that moment. Other parents can help us see the humour.

5. Place the moment in context. A bad moment is just that. A moment. It is not the future of your relationship with your child, it is not the reflection of your ability to be a good parent or the inherent goodness of your child. It is just a moment and this moment too will eventually pass. And if we didn't quite succeed in being as calm as we would like today, there's always the chance to start afresh tomorrow.

'Listen earnestly to anything your child wants to tell you, no matter what. If you don't listen eagerly to the little stuff when they are little, they won't tell you the big stuff when they are big, because to them all of it has always been big stuff.' Catherine M. Wallace

Have you ever looked at your children and found yourself wondering where did the time go? How did they grow so quickly? Lately I've been having these feelings a lot as my children rapidly approach the milestone of adolescence. One day you are handed a brand new baby and the days stretch endlessly before you. It feels as if the nappies, the crying and the tantrums will never end. Yet too soon they are adults, packing their backpacks for round the world trips or moving out into the world of independence. There's so much I want to tell them, so much wisdom I want to impart to prepare them for the journey that lies ahead. But too often these words are left unspoken, lost in the day to day busyness of life. I'm tempted to make every conversation count, to fill it with gems of advice that will help my children grow and become strong, resilient people. Yet I'm also conscious that this would likely result in multiple eye rollings and cries of 'Oh Mum.' Even more than I already get!

Real life doesn't always allow these conversations to happen. We have to talk about homework, what we are having for dinner and whether the school uniform needs a wash. Still, if you could share your own gathered wisdom with your child (and you didn't need to talk about times tables, school lunches and the need for clean uniforms) what would you say? What life lessons would you hope to impart before your little one graduates into adulthood? These ten small offerings come to mind to me today.

Be kind to everyone you meet, even those who are angry, ignorant, or difficult. They too have their story. Stand up for what you believe in. Your values will be your compass through life's uncertainties.It is better to be liked by a small few for who you really are, than by many for who you are not.When difficulties come, and sadly they will, draw close to the things that give you substance and help you find your strength...family, friends, and faith.Let love in but be careful who gets a ticket to your heart. If someone hurts you it's important to forgive but it's also okay to walk away.Manners are really important. Please and thank you will take you far in life.

It doesn't matter what mark you got or whether you won the race. What matters to me is who you are and all that you stand for.

Most people in this life just long to be seen, to be truly seen for who they are. The greatest gift we can offer another is to listen deeply to their story. Be the person who listens to the words that are left unsaid.

Be gentle with yourself. Offer self compassion. You are human, you will not be perfect, you will make mistakes. The journey of life requires that we fall down many times before we can stand. It is in the getting back up again that the strength of our character shines.

And know that I love you. Through all of the circumstances in life it will be a love that is unchanging and whether you are 12, 45 or 67 I will always think of you as my baby. My beautiful baby.

These are my wisdoms today. Tomorrow, they may be different. What wisdom would you hope to share as your child grows?

Becoming a mother for the first time (either through the birth of a child, adoption or the complex navigation of step parenting), can be an overwhelming, daunting task filled with many feelings. It takes time to process the enormous changes taking place and for these feelings to be transformed.

Many years ago, my first baby, a long awaited daughter was born. The start of a very steep learning curve, I recall in the early days feeling daunted by the enormity of the journey ahead. Self doubt, confusion and worry all made their presence felt. And yet, we survived. Somehow through the challenges of the early months, these feelings were gradually transformed. They didn't go away completely, but it got easier. Alongside doubt and confusion, happiness and contentment became part of the journey. The bigger part.

I often think back to those anxiety ridden early days and wish I could reach out to my new mother self and say 'It's okay. Hang in there. It's going to get so much better.'

We all need the kindness and wisdom of mothers who have gone before us. If you could reach back in time and offer a few words of wisdom and comfort to your younger self, and to other mothers entering this journey for the first time, what would you say?

As our children make the delicate transition from baby, to toddler to small child to tween and beyond, one of the challenges that we as parents may face is how to prepare them for the world and its harsh realities. In an age where both the news and social media are constantly filled with horrific images of atrocities committed around the globe, the challenge we as parents might face is how to negotiate this transition, how to balance too much information with just enough at each developmental stage.

Recently my daughter was asked to complete a project that involved her hypothetically travelling to five cities around the world. One of the cities she chose was New York. As she was researching places to she might visit she came across references to Ground Zero. 'Mum, what is that?' she asked.

I was immediately aware that my daughter, being a tween, is at a tricky developmental stage. Not quite a teenager, no longer a small child. She knew a lot about some things but there was still so much about the world and the way it worked that remained a mystery to her. I paused before answering. How much should I share with her of the terrible events that happened less than 15 years ago? I began choosing my words carefully. As I explained the meaning of the Ground Zero memorial and the events that had led up to its creation, she asked me another challenging question. 'Can I watch what happened on Youtube?'

My heart sunk because I had seen the footage probably a hundred times and I knew how confronting it was...to an adult. How confronting would it be through the eyes of a ten year old? Yet I also knew that to prevent her from seeing it would likely increase her curiosity and she would watch it anyway. At least this way I could talk her through it.

And so together we watched the images of two planes crashing into the World Trade Centre buildings. Her eyes widened as she remained glued to the screen, her questions coming think and fast. Did anyone survive? Did the people on the plane live? How many people died? Her eyes glistening, she turned to me and said 'But Mum, why would anyone do that?' I tried to answer as best I could, giving a child-friendly explanation of terrorism, a way of making sense of such acts without creating more fear. But sadly I could see that no child-friendly version could protect her from her own sudden realisation that evil exists, that bad people, and sometimes even good people, do bad things.

How barbaric the world must seem when first we lose our innocence. As parents, we try to shield our children from the harsh realities of an unpredictable world yet should they glimpse the evening news they will bear witness to stories of child abuse, poverty, murder, natural disasters. How do we explain death penalties, animal cruelty, and terrible acts committed in the name of religion without imparting the message that the world is an unsafe place?

I'm not always sure how to navigate this journey with my children, how much to share and how much to keep hidden until they are old enough to understand. I tend to advocate erring on the side of caution, revealing enough but not too much in a child digestible form. So much depends on the individual nature of each child; their sensitivity to the world around them and how quick their mind is to listen to our carefully chosen words and hear all that we aren't saying. Sometimes, no matter how carefully chosen my words are, my children know what I'm trying to hide.

I do know one thing however, and it is something I'm trying to convey to my children every day.

There is goodness in the world. A lot of it. There is kindness, there is love, there is wonder. There are angels masquerading on this Earth as people and most people in their hearts are good and decent. There is a family that will love her no matter what. There are also rainbows, dolphins, clouds that look like castles and flowers that thrive in the desert. In amongst pain and suffering, there is beauty. This is the world I want her to believe in.

As a mother, I wish I could preserve her innocence forever but I can't. Maybe though, I can preserve her belief that goodness reigns and that one day she herself might make a difference to this uncertain world.

This is my guilty confession. I want to be a lawnmower mother. You know the type. The mother who smoothes the way for her child, eliminating obstacles and struggles, helping them navigate their way through life by removing the hurdles before them.

But this is my secret desire.

To the outside world, I am trying really hard to not be this parent. I am stepping back when they have a conflict with their friends, I am not rushing to confront the teacher that my child feels is being unfair, I am allowing my child to struggle with the reality that success often means just a lot of sheer hard work and yet even that may not be a guarantee of anything.

But oh, its so hard. Sometimes as I listen to my child's stories of angst and sadness, I long to rush in and make it all right. My heart is breaking with every tear they shed and my every instinct is to rush in, smooth the way and make the road before them straight again. Because I know too well how very painful life can be and in my deepest being I long for them to have an easier ride than I have had, for life to be good to them.

But...and here's the dilemma. Though every fibre inside of me longs to do this I hold myself back because I know, intellectually, that struggle is necessary. From my own journey and from sharing in the stories of many, many patients I know that painful experiences are often fundamental in helping us become who we are. Strength, depth and resilience are often won through experiencing and surviving that which at the time feels really hard, even unsurvivable. We are stronger than we think but often we need struggle and pain to discover this.

And so I am trying to hold myself back. As we stare down the tunnel of adolescence and all the messy, complicated angst that that passage can bring, I am trying to hold myself back. Though as a mother my heart breaks a little every time they shed a tear, I am not rushing in to fix it.

I am however, rushing in to hold them, and hug them, and love them through it. I may have to keep my lawnmower tendencies in check, but I'm letting the other parts of my mother self run rampant. I will be there to listen to their stories of who said what, to stroke their brow until the sobs subside, to tell them over and over that they are good, that they are enough.

Make no mistakes though. The lawnmower parent lies in wait and Kiddo, if somebody's bullying you, if someone lays a finger on that precious little head of yours I'll be in the garage starting up that engine...

The journey of motherhood is filled with millions of moments, many of them unseen to the eyes of the world.

These are the moments when we hold a crying baby on our shoulder and every cry tears a little hole in our heart.When we change our child's pyjamas for the third time after a relentless night of vomiting. When we lie in bed, sleepless with worry over the dread our child carries about going to school. It is the washing, it is the never-ending meal preparation, it is the finding the other shoe before you run the before-to-school gauntlet.

These moments are largely unseen, invisible and often unrecognised to the world. Yet to our children, there are also millions of mothering moments which will be visible for the rest of their lives, which they will remember long after we have gone.

The cuddle to soothe away the nightmare. The word of encouragement before the ballet exam. The gentle touch of a held hand as we skip along the footpath. Tiny moments of caring leaving a lifelong legacy.

To all the beautiful mother's out there , we see you. Today, we celebrate you. To each of the mothers whose days are filled with so much which is invisible, yet doing so much that is remarkable and exquisite I wish you a Happy Mother's Day. May your day have been filled with love, kindness, and validation. A card drawn with stubby fingers. A present or two. And maybe even a quiet cup of tea with the sunshine on your shoulders.

Author

Leisa Stathis is an individual, child and family therapist who currently is in private practice. She is also a mother. A very real, very ordinary mother trying to do something extra-ordinary ; be good enough. Becoming a Mother is her journey, as much as it is anyone else's. A journey of learning to sitting with the uncertainty that parenting brings, of letting love steal its way into her heart and of being transformed into a new identity. You will find no experts here, just real mothers facing the everyday challenges of parenting with thoughtfulness and intention.

You can also follow Leisa on Facebook at Becoming a Mother, on Twitter @LeisaStathis and at Bloglovin'